Alice popped the last strawberry into her mouth and quickly reached out to the count, signaling she wanted more. Seeing the little girl so excited after a sugar boost, the count took another strawberry and shook it teasingly in front of her.
“Good, good.”
Fixated on the strawberry, Alice followed him like she was hypnotized, eventually trailing all the way into the townhouse under her own little power.
When the count praised her and handed over what she had been promised as a reward, urgent voices calling for the child echoed from around the room.
“Miss! Alice!”
“Where are you, Alice?!”
“Count?”
The elderly steward, running about with the maids and servants, spotted Count Lowell and came to a stop. Just as he was about to greet him, he saw Alice standing there, her mouth and hands covered in red, and clutched his chest in shock.
“I’ve found Alice!”
At his shout, the servants who had been running about rushed over in a flurry. Even as everyone breathed a sigh of relief, Alice continued gnawing on the strawberry with her front teeth.
Just then, Caria, dressed in a light chemise dress, strolled down the central staircase, yawning leisurely.
“I told you, I’d be in the house. But…”
“Ahem! Have you been well? I just came by briefly to deliver this today.”
“Why is the old man coming in with my daughter?”
The count, about to hand the strawberry basket to Caria, froze at the mention of “daughter.” His head snapped up in surprise.
Daughter? Did she just say daughter? No, the resemblance is there… but I’ve never heard her mention having a daughter…
Despite the turmoil in his mind, Count Lowell’s political-hardened poker face remained intact. And before he knew it, the line he had prepared came out of his mouth almost automatically.
“Oh… I just picked her up.”
“This is Number One, and this is Number Two. Say hello.”
“I’ve heard about you. That you treated my mother kindly. I’m Andyion, the eldest son.”
“What do you mean Number Two? Alice is Alice, but… actually Number Two?”
Alice blinked her blue eyes in confusion, and Andyion kindly explained that they were twins—he came first, she came after, so for convenience, they referred to them as Number One and Number Two.
“Ah,” Alice nodded, and Andyion picked up a napkin to wipe the food from her mouth. Watching this, Count Lowell asked seriously, his face all business.
“Twins?”
“Yes.”
“Really twins?”
Though they were supposed to be five years old, one looked fifteen, and the other seemed barely five months old. How could children from the same womb, born on the same day, be so utterly opposite?
Count Lowell marveled at the mystery of life, not even knowing if the bread he was eating went into his mouth or nose.
“Alice, you should eat your vegetables too.”
He was even more astonished by Caria’s demeanor toward the children.
Always prickly and harsh, he expected her to be the same with her children, but she handled them with skill. She carefully divided the food to ensure no picky eating, and reminded them to chew thoroughly.
Ah, right—she’d volunteered at the orphanage for quite a while. Unlike other noblewomen, she rolled up her sleeves and personally took care of children.
Watching her attentively helping the children eat, Count Lowell tapped the table with his fingers and couldn’t hold back any longer.
“You go ahead and eat! How come the kids are plump, but you’re so thin?”
“What? Old man, why are you picking a fight while we’re eating?”
“It’s not a fight!”
“Mother…”
Just as Caria and Count Lowell were about to bicker over something trivial again, Andyion intervened. He gently placed his small hand over Caria’s, giving her his usual kind gaze.
“I’ve finished my meal first, so I’ll help Alice. Mother, you should eat your meal. I’m sure the Count meant the same thing.”
With the child’s soft, smiling voice, Caria and the count fell silent. The servants, seeing the fight—never before stopped by anyone—halted immediately and looked at the young master with respectful eyes.
“I can’t tell who’s the child and who’s the adult.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing at all, Count.”
The elderly steward, keeping a calm expression, went to attend to Alice. As a brief silence fell over the dining room, Caria, spooning up some egg, asked casually:
“Old man, did you come to investigate what happened in Daejeon?”
“Daejeon?”
“In Daejeon, I announced my intention to divorce, exposing the Duke of Pandeon’s corruption and his illegitimate child.”
“Illegitimate child? Then these children…”
Count Lowell visibly flinched, looking at Andyion and Alice, and Caria frowned.
Had he come here knowing nothing? Why? Was he just checking if the house was intact? How obsessed is he with this place? If that’s the case, he might as well have kept it instead of selling it.
As Caria grew frustrated with the count’s persistence, a maid approached and set a small plate before her: custard cream and large strawberries.
“Strawberries? At this time of year?”
“The Count brought them. He picked them from the estate’s greenhouse.”
“The old man? Why?”
“Well, the new mistress likes fruit.”
Caria’s eyes widened as she looked at Count Lowell. He shrank a little, avoiding her gaze and tearing his bread into tiny pieces.
“How did the old man know what I like?”
“How? From watching what you eat, of course.”
They had shared meals many times—surely he would notice something like that.
Count Lowell replied bluntly, embarrassed, while Caria was genuinely astonished. Her eyes held a complex light as her mind recalled the stark, indifferent dining halls of the Duke’s house. Even after dozens or hundreds of meals, no one had ever cared what she ate. It had seemed normal…
Caria felt a strange tightness in her chest and set down her knife and fork.
The count’s admonition—“How can you start the day energetically if you eat as little as a bird?”—echoed loudly.
“-Why don’t you ask?”
“Ask what?”
“Who the kids’ father is, why and when you had an affair despite being married, where the kids were raised, why you’re separating from the Duke, how to handle the Emperor’s anger. You’re good at meddling—why so quiet today?”
These were all questions people had thrown at her yesterday—pretending to care but driven by shallow curiosity. She had refused to meet anyone, answering nothing.
Yet now, Count Lowell sat across from her, eating. Why was this meddling old man silent, just watching the strawberries?
The count stayed silent for a moment, looking steadily into her eyes, then exhaled deeply.
“Do you want me to ask?”
“Everyone’s curious.”
Caria gave her usual crooked smile, but the count was already unbothered by her harmless teasing.
“Given the circumstances…”
“Huh?”
“Given the circumstances.”
With that single phrase, Count Lowell answered. If she had done such a thing, there was surely a reason—a statement of trust.
‘What does he know about me…’
Caria had known the count for barely a week. They had shouted a few times, had trivial talks, shared tea a few times—nothing serious.
Yet he spoke as if he fully understood her situation. Why did he understand, comfort, and soothe her? Caria, who had never relied on anyone, couldn’t easily trust or take his hand.
Because in her world, everything followed the law of equivalent exchange. Receiving something always meant giving something in return. At least, that’s how she saw it.
“It’s because you’re admirable, that’s all.”
“Huh?”
“You’ve endured so much hardship alone, and yet here you are, sitting like this. Like a daughter, admirable and praiseworthy. I hope from now on, you find happiness.”
The count remembered the Duke of Pandeon’s behavior he witnessed in front of the hotel. Marriage to such a selfish man must have been exhausting, and the Emperor refused to grant a divorce. How much emotional strain must she have endured?
The children had homes, wealth, and could be raised well with love. Caria was still young and could find a compatible new husband.
Now, he hoped everything would go as she wished. He would do what he could, however small, so she could finally be happy.
“-I wish my father had been like the old man.”
At that moment, Caria keenly felt how meaningless blood ties could be. If she had realized this sooner, she wouldn’t have caused a scene on the stairs that day.
